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The Plant Native

If native plants can plant themselves, we can easily plant them, too. Let's plant native!

11/04/2026

WOW, thank you Kansas, Iowa, and Ohio, for more outstanding work at the polls. You showed up and made sure that our communities are taken care of, and we're thinking of the future (not billionaires).

These three states have some stellar state plants. Kansas really understood the assignment by picking sunflowers as their state flower(s). It's like someone went straight to the sun and beamed it down directly into the roots. And as anyone knows, this one is easy to plant. I've seen a 4-year-old successfully plant a patch of beautiful, heat-tolerant sunflowers. What a welcoming, friendly choice.

Iowa is like tonight: a little unexpected. I won't second-guess it ever again, because the incredible bur oak is their state tree. Oaks are...well—they're oaks. They are forest royalty. Bur oaks are maybe the weird (but very cool) aunt in the family tree. They grow huge, 100 feet tall, and they make acorns with furry-like hats, that look knit by squirrels. They handle drought, heat, wind, etc.—and still bring the party. Kinda like Iowa did, on Election Day.

Finally (before I go to bed, this night is EPIC), I'm closing out my plant + state love letters with Ohio, and the Ohio buckeye. It's pretty rad that Ohio was like, "yep, we're going to name our sports mascot after the state tree." That is the type of decision-making that feels way ahead of its time—like their election decisions yesterday.

I had a blast making these. If the internet likes them, I'll pick up and finish the rest of the blue wave love letters tomorrow. And if not—happy planting and happy voting y'all. WE DID IT.

11/04/2026

I'm not crying, you're crying! This one is historic!

Congrats to the amazing residents of Texas for choosing and to protect families and the natural Texas landscape. Let me tell you a little backstory about the Texas state flower, Texas blue bonnet, because it's a metaphor for this moment in a few sentences.

Texas blue bonnets are lupines, and in the pea family Fabaceae (if you see their seeds, you see the family resemblance). All plants in Fabaceae—including TX blue bonnets—do this extrodinary thing. They can take nitrogen from the air and soil and turn it into a form that's usable to plants.

I know, I know. You might be saying, "Can't all plants do this?" NOPE. Taking nitrogen from the world and turning it into a form that plants can use is actually something only a few plants can do.

TX blue bonnets do this magic trick, and then they make extra nitrogen and GIVE IT AWAY. They give their extra plant food to all the other plants around them. It's beauty, resilience, and incredible generosity, all in one plant. They do this incredible work in an NBD kind of way, looking amazing the entire time.

Sounds like Texas, right?

11/04/2026

WOAH. South Carolina! YOU DID IT. made history and SC's residents and natural landscapes can breathe a sigh of relief.

Your state flower is what happens when you get everything you want (which feels very SC, honestly). Carolina jessamine checks all the boxes: Evergreen. Bright yellow flowers. Looks great on a trellis, mailbox, or fence. Drought-tolerant. Heat-tolerant. Shrugs off humidity. And a pollinator fave.

Yellow or carolina jessamine (Gelsemium sempervirens) is the perfect metaphor for SC's gorgeousness and resiliency. You make standing up for democracy look gooooood.

11/04/2026

What's up NC! You did it! Democrats haven’t won a Senate race in NC since 2006, but 20 years later, they're back. Congrats to and all the NC residents who voted and made it happen.

Y'all have good taste when it comes to flowers! Your state flower, the eastern flowering dogwood, is definitely a contender for the sexiest tree in North America (I stand by that; come at me if you want). These trees live for decades and grow at a don't-rush-me slow pace, making their wood extremely strong and resilient. They decide to make their presence known in the spring and cover their branches with flowers BEFORE the leaves appear. No one rushes eastern flowering dogwood. You sit back, wait, and admire. They are the Beyoncés of trees.

AND it's a host plant. Talk about good looks and generosity. (I would plant one in my front yard, but I already have.) Thanks to NC residents for standing up and bringing the change we desperately needed. Next vacation, I'm coming to you to say thanks IRL.

11/04/2026

What's up America! Let's give some gratitude to the great state of Georgia, who sent back to the Senate. Jon is great, but you know who is also great? GEORGIANS. They know what was at stake, and thanks to those who got out and voted.

Georgia's state flower—sweetbay magnolia—is the perfect metaphor for Georgia tonight. This flower is actually *a tree*. It's here for the greater good: it's OK with rain gardens, it feeds pollinators, it looks great in front yards And it's also a host plant. Georgia yards get to enjoy sweetbays as evergreen trees, which is just nature's way of saying 'thank you' for holding it down.

Cheers and thanks to all the Georgia residents who showed up and made it happen. Please tag yourself in the comments so the internet can shower you with hearts and thanks.

11/01/2026

Want to get angry, and then vote? Here’s what the Trump administration did to wildlife in under two years.

Some of these changes are being challenged in court, and some aren’t final yet, so our votes MATTER. Know someone who’s still deciding *whether* to vote? Send this to them. Then go plant something native this fall.

The fine print:

Monarch butterfly: In December 2025, Trump’s U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service missed its legal deadline to protect the monarch as threatened, and a court settlement now pushes the decision to 2030. A threatened listing would make it illegal to harm monarchs, protect 4,000+ acres of their winter roosts in California, and require federal agencies to make sure their projects don’t put them at risk.

Rusty patched bumble bee: In July 2026, Trump’s U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and National Marine Fisheries Service finalized “Rescinding the Definition of ‘Harm’ Under the Endangered Species Act,” so destroying an endangered species’ habitat no longer counts as harming it.

Ruby-throated hummingbird: In April 2025, Trump’s Department of the Interior issued Solicitor’s Opinion M-37085, which says the Migratory Bird Treaty Act only protects birds from being killed on purpose.

Rare native plants: In July 2026, Trump’s U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service finalized “Regulations for Designating Critical Habitat,” making it easier to leave land out of protection for economic reasons.

Forest native plants: In August 2026, Trump’s U.S. Forest Service proposed repealing the 2001 Roadless Rule, which keeps roads and logging out of 59 million acres of national forest.

Mad? Upset? Feeling overwhelmed? Take it to the polls on Tuesday. And help me spread the word: I’ll send a Rattlesnake Master hat to the first 10 people who share this post to their Stories and tag me. No vote required to enter, just share.

If this post upsets you, I invite you to unfollow.

Western prairie fringed orchid image by Jasper Shide / iNaturalist (CC BY)

11/01/2026

Want flowers in November? Meet common witch hazel (Hamamelis virginiana).

While the rest of the garden is winding down, this native shrub puts out spidery yellow, lightly fragrant flowers, often while its leaves are still turning gold. (The flowers look like tiny cartoon fireworks IMO 🎇) It blooms from October into December across eastern North America.

Why plant it:
—Flowers when almost nothing else does
—Late-season food for the few pollinators still out, like winter moths and small bees
—Smells amazing
—Easy, tough and happy in part shade
—it’s also a host plant for 70+ creatures, like striped hairstreaks

I have one along my driveway and it’s so much fun to walk by when a breeze goes by; it smells AMAZING. (I made these videos at if you want to visit IRL.) Do you have one? Or want a tip on where to find one? Tell me below.

10/30/2026

Horror story in two words: CALLERY PEAR.

This plant smells like FISH in bloom. Yes, you read that correctly. If you've ever walked into a parking lot in the spring, looked around in disgust, and then wondered what was rotten, you may have been smelling this tree.

Callery pear trees grow quickly and tolerate drought and salt spray, which is why landscapers planted them everywhere in the last century, especially along roads and highways. But these plants make fruit (yes, tiny pears). And those fruits are eaten by birds, who 💩 and spread them far and wide. This is why you'll see thickets of them in forests and along roadways.

North America has a zillion native trees and shrubs that flower in the spring and don't smell like a low tide dumpster. Can we recommend:

—Serviceberries (Amelanchier)
—Eastern flowering dogwood (Cornus florida)
—Fringetree (Chionanthus virginicus)
—Red chokecherry (Prunus virginiana)

Do you want to join in hating on this nightmare tree? Share your horror stories in the comments!

10/28/2026

Let me tell you a horror story called: BURNING BUSH.

If you're on the eastern side of North America right now, you've probably spotted bright, nail-polish-red bushes. They are often clumped in grocery store parking lots and corporate landscaping, or sprinkled in suburban yards. (I had one in my own yard when I moved in.)

WHY IS THIS PLANT "BAD"? Because of its seeds. Burning bushes produce *hundreds of seeds*, each with a 30-80% germination rate. Birds eat the seeds, and then 💩 them out. Those seeds turn into baby burning bushes. When spring rolls around, burning bushes leaf out much earlier than most native plants. Their leaves block light from the forest floor, killing native ephemeral flowers and other native plants.

Do you have one of these? Get out the clippers, saw, and contractor bags, now. Cut it down and bag it up, put it alongside your regular trash (not compost).

And then head over to a native nursery and grab a red chokecherry (Prunus virginiana) which is native to basically all of North America, has great bright red foliage, and gorgeous white flowers in the spring.

Let your neighbors know: this plant is a nightmare!

🍁

10/28/2026

Get out and see some witch hazel flowers! Here's what to look for:

Spooky plant week continues with common witch hazel (Hamamelis virginiana)! It's blooming right now into November. Get up close to see the tiny, bright yellow flowers and make sure to smell them, too. They smell like a cross between oranges, gingerbread, and a blast of fresh air (IMO). Drop your scent description in the comments!

Another native species, spring witch hazel (Hamamelis vernalis) blooms in January into March. Both species love fun sun to part sun and well drained sites. I highly recommend doing what I did: plant them where you can see them from your kitchen window. You can enjoy them as the garden is winding down, or just before it wakes up again in the spring.

Our native guides digs into both species with LOTS of pictures:
https://theplantnative.com/plant/witchhazel/

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